Tales of the Clans: A Single Spark
by RandomFandomIdiots
Summary: Three apprentices carry the hopes of a clan decimated by greencough on their shoulders. Although their ranks are few in number, MossClan is slowly regaining a chance of surviving-but only if they don't destroy themselves from the inside first. Accepting OC suggestions.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

_in which our heroes arrive_

"Ripplewind? RIPPLEWIND!"

Ripplewind startled out of his restless doze. He stumbled to his paws, taking care to sweep the scattered scraps of their precious— and dwindling— supply of catmint out of harm's way.

He squinted, trying to make out the vague figure silhouetted in the weak light of the entrance through eyes still murky with exhaustion. A marbled tabby tom paced anxiously on the dusty ground, now compacted with the pawsteps of frantic cats racing for their medicine cat.

"Fallenleaf?" Ripplewind shook his head, trying to dislodge the fog of sleep. "Is it Turtlewing? Has she started her spasms?" At Fallenleaf's terse nod, he hurried out of his den. The night was cool and clear, a light breeze blowing across the deserted camp. In a few leaping strides, he was entering the warm air of the nursery. The other tom stopped at the entrance, tail twitching as he waited in anxiety and growing fear.

The spacious den with its thick padded walls was deserted but for Turtlewing. The elegant tortoiseshell was lying on her side on an ample nest of grass and feathers, flank rising and falling irregularly as she panted desperately.

It had been a difficult leaf-bare for the Clan. A violent bout of greencough had killed off nearly a third of the Clan, and Ripplewind's supply of herbs, already strained after a dry newleaf and greenleaf, had been almost completely used up in a desperate attempt to keep the warriors healthy enough to catch food for the Clan. Most of the excess had gone to Turtlewing, who had fallen ill just shortly after retiring to the nursery. Thankfully, she had survived, though it would be a difficult kitting.

Turtlewing let out a low moan as her side rippled, her leaf green eyes glazed over with the pain.

"Stick! Now!" Ripplewind called as he placed a paw tentatively on Turtlewing's belly— _three kits_. Outside, he heard the patter of paws as Fallenleaf scampered off to find a branch for his mate.

Turtlewing coughed, a grating, dry sound— the remnants of her illness. _If the kitting is delayed for too long, this could kill her._ Hurriedly, Ripplewind began pumping her belly. The queen jerked up suddenly before collapsing back down with a pained whimper. As Ripplewind pressed down again, Fallenleaf ducked back into the den, a strong, thick twig in his jaws. Nodding to the tabby tom in gratitude, Ripplewind placed the stick in Turtlewing's mouth. She cried out, jaws snapping down on the twig, just as a small sac slid onto the packed dirt floor of the nursery.

Ripplewind immediately bent down and bit open the sac; the kit inside opened its jaws and wailed, wet dark tabby fur shining in the dim light. He nudged it toward its mother; the kit, having found Turtlewing, snuggled in the warmth of her belly and began to suckle.

Turtlewing gazed down at it, smiling weakly. Her tired eyes were filled with love and affection. "The first one… is it a she-kit or tom?"

"She-kit." Ripplewind stared at the small kit for a moment, before settling back into position. "C'mon, Turtlewing. One down, two to go. You can do this."

The spasms came again. Turtlewing gasped, and a second kit slid out. Again, he nipped off its sac and placed it gently in front of the exhausted queen.

"A she-kit as well." Turtlewing lifted her head slightly off the ground to gaze at its second kit, a blue-gray dilute tortoiseshell.

"Wow," she mewed softly, before promptly collapsing back down; her eyes were closed, her breathing fast and shallow. _I better get the third kit out as soon as possible._

Her body jerked again, then again. Ripplewind pushed down on her belly, and he heard the stick in Turtlewing's mouth crack forcefully as the final kit slid out with a painful convulsion, hidden in a sac that was quickly nipped open.

"And another she-kit." Paws moving in precision, he carefully placed the third and last kit, a dilute calico, next to her siblings. She immediately let out a squeak and latched on to her mother.

"They're beautiful…" Turtlewing had somehow awoken, and was now gazing down at her kits with exhausted but amazed emerald eyes. "I—" Her sentence was cut off with a gasp, and she coughed.

"Fallenleaf," Ripplewind meowed, "you can come in now." The tabby tom was immediately by his mate's side, fawning over their kits, his long tail whipping back and forth in excitement and once slapping Ripplewind in the face.

Ripplewind blinked at him, not minding, studying the three tiny kits. _No matter how many times I do this, it never ceases to amaze me._

_There's something different about them… It wasn't like when Aspenfur's kits were born. But I haven't received any sort of warning or prediction from StarClan…_

The third and youngest kit suddenly broke off, turning her face up towards Ripplewind. _What in StarClan…_ Her eyes were open, a strange light silver color, like the mist that enveloped the Clan territory on cold leaf-bare mornings.

His mouth felt dry, and he swallowed. "She… she shouldn't have opened her eyes yet. Not for a few days at least. How…"

"Oh, but she's _gorgeous_," Fallenleaf meowed, pressing against Turtlewing's side. "What'll we name them?"

The queen looked up from her gentle cleaning of her new kits. "Do you want to decide, or should I?"

"How about Mistkit?" Fallenleaf asked. "For the kit with open eyes."

"And Finchkit and Nightkit?" Turtlewing indicated her other two kits, and Fallenleaf nodded, looking ecstatic and dazed at the same time.

"Mistkit, Finchkit, and Nightkit," he mewed softly. "Our—" He coughed, the jerking motion shuddering down through his lean underfed form. Mistkit, Finchkit, and Nightkit mewed in distress as they were jostled.

"Fallenleaf, I think we need to go," Ripplewind mewed, shooing him out of the den. Fallenleaf reluctantly allowed the medicine cat to guide him, stealing a glance back towards his newly born kits; Turtlewing offered him an exhausted but encouraging smile and sank back in her nest, gazing at Finchkit, Nightkit, and Mistkit with the love only ever seen between a mother and her kits.

Two days later, Ripplewind ducked into the nursery, a pitifully small wad of herbs in his jaw. Though it was nearly sunhigh, the pale rays of the leafbare sun barely illuminated the deserted clearing.

Turtlewing welcomed him with a worried look, her emerald eyes wide in anxiety. "Ripplewind," she said. "Thank StarClan you're here—" She broke off, quickly turning her head to cough at the wall, away from her suckling kits. "You see," she began again, "All of my kits have begun coughing— oh, Ripplewind, what if they have greencough? And Fallenleaf, he's exhausted himself trying to take care of us; he has it, doesn't he? If they die, it'll be entirely my fault—"

"Please, calm down," Ripplewind mewed evenly. "Fallenleaf is fine, and I'm sure your kits will be too. It's probably just a small bout of whitecough that'll go away on its own." He gently felt Nightkit's forehead, breaking her from her suckling with a small, outraged squeak.

"Nightkit doesn't have a fever. Her cough should go away soon, but I'll bring over a little coltsfoot for her just in case." He bothered Finchkit next, and found with no surprise the same results. "Finchkit doesn't have a fever either; she should be okay with a few doses of coltsfoot to relieve her cough like Nightkit."

He turned to Mistkit, expecting to make the same prognosis; however, the tiny calico was wheezing, her breathing raspy and uneven. Feeling an oncoming sense of dread, he slowly put a tentative paw to her small forehead, and instantly recoiled; she was scorching hot. As if on cue, Mistkit burst into a coughing fit, her ears and tail drooping with exhaustion; Ripplewind hurriedly nudged her away from her littermates.

"Mistkit's in bad condition," Ripplewind mewed gravely. Turtlewing opened her jaws to speak, her eyes wide in horror, but the medicine cat cut her off. "All of you have to come to the medicine den with me. I will provide tansy along with coltsfoot for you, Finchkit, and Nightkit every day to prevent transmission." His heart softening at Turtlewing's drooping figure, he added hastily, "Mistkit should be fine. We still have enough catmint for both her and Fallenleaf; both will recover." His voice sounded more sure than he felt; on the contrary, their supply of catmint was horrendously low, and despite knowing this, Turtlewing nodded at him in appreciation.

She gently picked up Mistkit, still coughing hoarsely, by the cuff, and Ripplewind the other two kits, ignoring their squeaks of protest; as the strange group trooped across camp, he could feel the stares of his Clanmates boring into his fur. _What are they doing? What's going on?_

_Nothing you have to get involved in. _He led Turtlewing to the entrance of his den; the six cats only barely fit inside. _Thank StarClan the outbreak is mostly over; I'll have to divert most of my supplies to them._

Mistkit coughed pathetically, her pitifully bony form shuddering as her tiny mouth opened wide; she was curled sideways on her small nest, tossing and turning, and it ached Ripplewind to watch the small kit writhe in discomfort. Beside her, Fallenleaf stirred in his fitful sleep, wheezing through weak-sounding lungs.

They both had greencough, that much was certain. Turtlewing and the other two kits were less probable cases, though they were all weak following the difficult birth.

Ripplewind nudged Fallenleaf awake, offering him the small— _too small_— wad of catmint.

"No…" Fallenleaf mewed, almost too quietly to hear. He coughed painfully. "Give it to the kits."

"You have to take some," Ripplewind meowed. "I have enough." It was a lie, and they both knew it. Despite both Ripplewind's and Turtlewing's pleas, Fallenleaf turned away to face the wall, refusing to turn back around until Ripplewind gave the catmint to Mistkit and the tansy to the other kits. By then, he had lapsed back into an uneasy sleep, his breath loud and rasping.

"Try to get him to accept chickweed or hawkweed, at least," Ripplewind meowed to Turtlewing, hearing the desperation in his own voice. "I have larger stores of those." _But still not enough_. Turtlewing nodded worriedly, and the medicine cat exited the den on shaking legs, his tail drooping.

He returned the next day, with another far-too-small offering of herbs. Fallenleaf once again refused treatment, no matter how much Ripplewing or Turtlewing urged him.

The medicine cat sighed, turning towards Turtlewing's nest.

The two healthier kits stirred at the sounds of his pawsteps, looking up towards their mother.

Turtlewing gasped. "Their… their eyes are open!"

_What? _He stared down at the tiny kits. Nightkit's eyes were a deep shade of ultramarine, and Finchkit's were scarlet and golden. They blinked up at him with the innocent confusion of kits. _I've never seen those colors before…_

Then Mistkit coughed violently, and any thought of their unusual eyes left his mind; even though just a few days had passed, the disparity between the scrawny calico and her much healthier littermates was painfully clear. Her attempts at suckling were interrupted by her frequent fits of coughing, and whatever nutrients she was able to ingest she almost immediately vomited back up.

Her father wasn't doing much better, still being too obstinate to take medicine that could help his kits. He had been so stubborn that he had still determinedly left the medicine den to catch some prey for the Clan, though he stopped this unhealthy habit when the evening patrol found him fainted with exhaustion barely a smidge away from the river; Ripplewind feared that he would have been swept away by the currents had he not been found. Sighing, Ripplewind chewed up a small, withering catmint leaf into a pulp and nudged it onto the ground in front of Mistkit; Turtlewing bent down to feed it to her sickly kit. His heart sinking, he picked up and began to chew a tansy leaf. _StarClan, I really hope Mistkit and Fallenleaf recover soon._

At last, Mistkit had begun to recover. Though she was still tiny compared to her littermates, her coughing fits were infrequent enough to allow her to suckle, and she slowly regained her health. Fallenleaf finally accepted treatment, but Ripplewind feared it was too late for the tabby tom; he stayed in the medicine den long after his mate and kits had returned to the nursery. After another week, he settled back into the warriors' den with strict instructions to _not overexert yourself, you mouse-brain _and a (probably permanent) cough.

Ripplewing continued to visit Turtlewing and her kits with coltsfoot and borage, just in case. The kits stared up at him, their strange eyes huge in their tiny faces. Though the blank stares were unnerving, Ripplewind couldn't help but feel affection for them.

_I'm still getting that weird feeling from them, though. And there's been no word from StarClan._

_Something's coming._

* * *

**A/N: The arrival of our very, very, **_**very**_ **humble protagonists. **_**Gee**_**, I wonder why they have such genetically impossible eye colors? Even though the rest of the characters all have such rigorously researched genotypes and phenotypes? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)**

**Well, "rigorously researched" as in "not thinking two gray tabby cats can have a tortoiseshell kit".**

**And, yes, Ripplewind, something is coming. Something **_**vague**_**. Vagueness Is Coming. It's either that or a storm.**

**Anyway, congratulations on making it to the end of the prologue, which will probably be the longest chapter (whoops); we did not anticipate this happening, so, well, congrats to you. This fanfiction is written by three people with varying writing styles, with yet another person as editor. We apologize if there are any style differences, grammar weirdness, discontinuity, or other things. Please provide feedback (along with a few OC suggestions) if you are willing because we are unfortunately unaware of errors, despite there being **_**four**_ **writers and/or editors.**

**The chapters will be posted as we finish them, which means that they could be posted in 2 hours or they could be posted in 2 months or even 2 decades, as your humble authors often have lapses in memory and consider this… project to be of relatively low importance compared to not getting an 85 in math. (OR MEMORIZING EPISODES OF BRITISH TV SHOWS —GingerBeer) Alternatively, we could forget and never post again. Sorry.**

**Thank you for reading from [toxoplasmosis], [BotulisticCaboose], [GingerBeer], and [bBDsjp]! (These pseudonyms may change multiple times but will usually be in the same order. That is, if we continue this.)**

**We need a collective name. Also a name for this dumpster fire.**


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

_in which there is a slight accident and an object is set on fire._

Finchkit cleared her throat in preparation. She squawked, her maw gaping wide. Her gull imitation was so loud (and accurate) that Turtlewing darted out of the nursery, her eyes wide in fear, only to see her three insanely elated kits and shake her head in exasperation.

"That was nice!" Mistkit said. "Maybe we can do that to prank the elders next time! They're always panicking about gull attacks. They're getting worked up over nothing; they've never come this far!"

They conspired for a few moments, discussing their possible routes of action and the most flimsily constructed spots near the elders' den. They quickly formulated a plan: Finchkit was to stand by the back of the elders' den and squawk as loudly and as obnoxiously as possible, Mistkit would dash into the den yelling hysterically about a gull attack, and Nightkit would sit frozen near the elders' den, staring up at the sky in horror.

"Let's go!" Mistkit trooped importantly towards the elder's den, her stubby tail sticking stiffly up in the air with excitement; despite her small size compared to her littermates, she easily established herself as the leader of this little operation; Finchkit and Nightkit followed in line behind her. Finchkit located a corner of the sturdy den that seemed to be constructed with larger branches and hauled herself up, tiny claws digging into the rough bark. She settled into a sturdy nook near the very top and signaled to her siblings, who were also in position. They nodded back, and Finchkit took a deep breath.

She was quite proud of the resulting screech, which she tried her best to direct downward. Mistkit immediately raced into the den, her frantic yelling audible through the robust walls. She felt the urge to snicker. Their plan was going perfectly.

"Kits these days," a gruff voice said from below. "Don't know how to not bother others." Another equally cranky voice replied in agreement, and Finchkit's heart sunk.

"Gulls? Where?" The third voice, presumably Nettlestripe's sounded worried. "Show me, Mistkit, would you please?" _Nettlestripe's the _best_!_ Finchkit leaned closer to the loosely packed branches, hearing a soft _crunch_ as her head sunk into the twigs.

"Right outside!" At Mistkit's desperate voice, Finchkit _crunch_ed the branches again, straining to hear her. "They're coming really, really fast! Please, you have to come!" Her sibling's pawsteps were followed by much heavier ones as they both ran outside to presumably take a look at the sky. Nightkit, from her position just outside the exit, couldn't resist a gleeful glance up at Finchkit.

"Where?" said Nettlestripe. "I don't see an—"

_SKUAWK. SKUAAAAWK. SKUAAAAAAAAAAAWK._ She straightened, proud of herself for sounding even more realistic. In doing so, she almost missed Rustfur's complaint, loud though it was.

"...silly kits, always thinking we're going to believe them. Hah, as if! We know all their foolish tricks nowadays." He seemed somehow even more irritable than before. _Even Turtlewing thinks he's the _worst_. He's stubborn and completely dismissive of everyone._

Petalglow's reply was rendered unintelligible by the walls of the den, though it held a note of worry rather than irritation. _Petalglow's Turtlewing's mother; maybe she'll side with us!_

_SQUAWWWK! _

_Wait, what? Am I squawking by accident?_ She slapped a paw to her mouth, teetering on the edge of her rocky seat as she overbalanced slightly. Another series of _SKUAK-SKUAK-SKUAKs _sounded, ringing around the camp's high walls. _No, I'm not doing that! What's going on?_

_Is there actually a gull outside?_

She looked up, but the sunning-rock above the elders' den blocked her view of the cloudy blue skies. _Mouse dung, I can't see!_ She strained toward the open sky, but the rock still stubbornly covered her view, and she grumbled, scampering down the flimsily packed branches as she searched for a better viewpoint.

_SKUAWK. SKUAWK. SKUAK-SKUAK-SKUAK!_

A winged shadow swooped past her, made distinct by the bright sunlight on the hard-packed ground of the clearing. She looked up.

Three large, white birds soared gracefully over her head. Their pristine, snowy bellies were framed by long, sleek gray wings. _They're just like Nettlestripe always said in her stories. Gulls!_ She stood there, in the clearing, transfixed in awe of the beautiful birds now circling above her. They dived down deeper; she strained to see their clean outlines against the bright sun.

_Wait. Didn't Nettlestripe say things about gulls killing kits?_ Finchkit froze, her blood curdling with fear.

She looked around wildly. Nightkit was still sitting next to the elders' den, staring upwards in horror— except it was real, not borne of her impressive acting abilities. Nettlestripe was frantically herding Mistkit into the elders' den.

"Nightkit!" the elder yelled. "Move!"

The largest gull dived down towards the dark tabby kit, and she finally unfroze, making a mad dash for the safety of the elders' den. But the gull was faster— it swooped down towards her, sharp beak stretching forward—

Only to be intercepted by a gray blur. Fallenleaf, his amber eyes blazing, had leapt onto the gull's back, attacking it with swift swipes of his claws. The bird screeched in pain and surprise, crashing down to the ground with Fallenleaf below its long wing. The tabby tom struggled out from beneath the bloody mass of feathers.

"NIGHTKIT—" He coughed painfully. "NIGHTKIT, RUN!" She didn't need to be told twice; Nightkit bolted under his long legs across the remaining stretch of clearing to the nursery, where Turtlewing quickly hushed her in.

A piercing shriek split the air. "MISTKIT!" Nettlestripe's normally calm voice had risen to shrill panic. "MISTKIT! GET BACK HERE!"

Finchkit watched in shock as her tiny littermate shot out of the elders' den, her small claws fully extended, with a determined battle cry. The remaining gulls screeched in glee, turning to focus on their new target. Icy terror trickled down Finchkit's back; even if Mistkit was healthy now, her sickly first moon had taken its toll. The undersized calico kit was much too young and inexperienced to stand a chance against two fully-grown flying menaces. Through the corner of her eye, she could see the rest of the small Clan. The warriors were gathered at the edges of the clearing, searching for an opportunity to jump into the fight.

Said menaces swooped alarmingly close to the top of Mistkit's head. _No!_ Finchkit leapt out from the shadow of the elders' den, throwing wild blows at the birds which fell short in thin air. Nevertheless, the gulls fell back with a startled squawk, and Finchkit bounded to her littermate's side. They stood tail-to-tail, glaring up at the circling gulls. _Go away! _

The gulls, however, did not get the message. They swooped down lower and lower, growing less and less intimidated by the kits' frantic swipes.

One of the gulls swooped down low to the ground, accelerating towards them, before being swiftly brought down by a furiously yowling Turtlewing.

Finchkit didn't know what her mother did to the bird, as she was currently quite occupied, thank you very much: at the downfall of its mate, the remaining gull had let out an outraged squawk, forgoing any and all caution to dive down towards her, speeding through the air in a gray-and-white flash. Through the blurry panic of her vision, she could see Fallenleaf behind the huge approaching form of the gull, but he was too far away.

_No, no, no, no!_ Her mind clouded in sheer terror.

Time, contrary to its representation in Nettlestripe's stories, did _not_ slow down as her death approached. However, the bird did. She watched in confusion as it suddenly reared back. Flames flickered over its blackening feathers. The fire swelled dramatically in the wind, enveloping its entire form in crackling orange flame. The gull flopped weakly to the ground with a pathetic _squawk_, its scorched wings fluttering vainly. Fallenleaf and Turtlewing immediately fell upon it. It was already near dead; its wings had been blacked to charred crisps. They swiftly put it out of its misery.

As the sounds of tearing feathers died down, she could hear the frantic murmurs and whispers of the Clan. _Why are they…_

_Where did the fire come from? And why're they staring—_

Seeing no possible explanation anywhere else, she glanced down at her paws. Her fire-covered paws. Nothing unusual— _Wait, fire-covered?!_ As soon as the thought crossed her mind, the flames flickered out of existence.

_What in StarClan?_

[fin.]

1391 words (edited 14 Dec)

* * *

**A/N: ****Chapter 1, in which our MCs with the **_**suspicious eye colors**_ **(remember them?) begin to think for themselves, and one in particular becomes **_**rather more suspicious**_**. I set fiiiiire to the gulls! *cough* Anyway. Remind us to never name another character "Finchsomething", because all we could think about was **_**To Kill A Mockingbird**_**. And there were many seagulls.**

**Thank you for reading from [toxoplasmosis], [BotulisticCaboose], [GingerBeer], and [bBDsjp]!**

**We **_**really **_**need to think of a collective name. And a title. **

**Also, Malec. ****—[BotulisticCaboose]**


End file.
